


Whirlwind

by Kaerith



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Identity Reveal, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith
Summary: “Nicolò!” Annetta hissed. “What do you think you are doing?”“Either living or dying,” Nico shot back. “Finally making a choice for myself instead of doing what our father wants me to do.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 43
Kudos: 293
Collections: All Kinkmeme and More: a very casual prompt n fill exchange!





	Whirlwind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NamelesslyNightlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/gifts).



> Since the first fic I started writing for this prompt is apparently unending and was giving me anxiety, I wrote this short one to fill the prompt because Nightlock and everyone were being so patient. 😄
> 
> Hopefully it ticks enough of the boxes on your prompt! ❤️ (And sorry for the low rating; smut takes so much longer for me to write and I wanted to bang this out before November was over and I didn’t leave myself much time.😅 Ask nicely and maaaybe I’ll do a smutty coda? They could theoretically have a cute cottage on Malta.)

Nicolò had met Giù in a tavern on the edge of the respectable district near the docks. It had only taken one curious meeting of their eyes and then another heated one before they met in the alley outside the building and clung to each other with tentative kisses while they fumbled with clothing and hands until they reached a mutual satisfaction. Nicolò had not learned Giù was called Giù until several months later when they encountered each other again. Their kisses were a bit more earnest and they took time to utter more than grunts and gasps. 

“What can I call you?” The handsome curly-haired man said between moans as Nicolò sucked him off. 

“Nico,” Nicolò said, pulling away for a moment and leaving his partner’s cock slick and wet in the dark night. “You?” 

“Giù’s fine,” the sailor said. It was obviously a pseudonym, but Nicolò did not care. He went back to mouthing at the man’s dick. 

The third time Giù led Nicolò to a rented room. “You’re a sailor?” Nicolò asked. 

“On a merchant ship from Carthage,” Giù said. “You live here?” 

Nicolò began to pull his shirt off and made a wordless sound of agreement that made Giù laugh and say, “I take it the conversation is over.” 

His affair with Giù was a secret between Nicolò and two of his closest friends. Between Enzo who worked at the docks and Angelo whose mother worked in Nicolò’s father’s kitchen, Nicolò was happy to be notified every few months when Giù was in town and he could sneak off for another satisfying tryst. 

Nicolò noticed that Giù’s smiles were getting a little more frayed every time he had to watch “Nico” leave, and Nicolò’s own chest grew heavier whenever he had to shake his head instead of answer his lover’s questions, but their meetings became the bittersweet moments that highlighted Nicolò’s increasingly stifling life and he didn’t want reality to shatter the illusion. 

The night Nico started crying while Giù fucked him so sweetly was when the sailor gently turned him over with gentle, calloused hands and insisted to know what was wrong. 

“This is the last time,” Nicolò said, trying to make himself small in his lover’s arms and press his face against him hard enough to memorize his scent so he could remember it for the rest of his life. After that, the only word Giù could make out was “married.” It pretty much confirmed the story for Nico he had pieced together in his head: Nico was of high status, sheltered and educated. He had friends who smuggled him down to the rowdy parts of town for fun, and Yusuf (or “Giù” as he had become less fond of hearing from Nico’s lips over the years) had been a fling that had become something much more important. 

He stroked Nico’s hair and bit back pleas for Nico to come with him that had never done any good before. His Genovan lover was a man of conflicted loyalties and steeped in guilt, but if Nico had decided to stay with his family and responsibilities he would stubbornly cling to that decision. 

Both men left that night with misty eyes and a heavy, aching reluctance weighing down their bodies.

* * *

Nicolò found the entire farce disgusting. He thought he could spend the last couple days of bachelorhood and freedom on a ship, but the escorts his betrothed‘s family had sent insisted on testing his etiquette and making him “presentable” for the French court. So far, as Nicolò could determine, the only difference between what he knew and what they expected was gaudy taste. The clothing he was expected to wear was ridiculous. Nicolò had resigned himself to the wigs long ago, but as he was handed a looking-glass on the ship and saw the ugly mockery of his face with the thick white powder and silly red lips he had to hold back both laughter and sobs behind his teeth. He had thought the colorful clothing was mortifying enough, but this travesty of a whore’s mask made shame and resentment curdle in his stomach. 

His sister, older and more successful at tact and grace, had lifted her eyebrows upon the sight and said, “Well, I suppose if it is the fashion....” That was as close to dismay that she would ever say before strangers. 

Nicolò’s melancholic study of his painted countenance was interrupted by by a great boom and shaking of the ship. He practically flew to the window to see a ship aiming their cannons at them. Two small puffs of smoke clouded the air in front of the newcomer before their vessel was rocked with enough force to toss Annetta to the floor. None of the French delegation bothered to go to her aid, Nicolò noticed with disdain; they had flocked into a huddle of fluttering hands and anxious complaints. He assisted his sister to her feet and they held on to support beams and braced themselves for more repercussions, locking eyes in fear and grim solidarity but not dissolving into displays of weakness like the French courtiers. 

After the lurching of the ship stopped, one of the officers opened the cabin door to tell them that they would be boarded. “These animals will not dare to harm any of you. If the captain cannot make an agreement, they will ransom you,” he said before he bid them bar the door and left. 

Nicolò and Annetta were the only sensible people in a state to follow good advice, so they barred the door. Everything except the clothes trunk was bolted to the deck, so they hauled that heavy chest to block the doorway as well while three of the courtiers twittered and the fourth one had collapsed in a dead faint. 

“Useless,” Nicolò sighed to Anna, discreetly indicating the cluster of colorful fools. 

“Perhaps the royal family will be made of sterner stuff,” Anna replied, though her voice held doubt instead of reassurance. 

At least an hour of anxious time passed, punctuated by yells and the reports of pistols. There was banging and shouting at the door, but the occupants managed to remain quiet until a new voice said in stilted French, “I, Captain Yusuf Al-Kaysani, have taken over this ship and promise you that no harm will come to you should you follow instructions. If you refuse to open this door, we shall leave you and and this ship to burn.” 

Nicolò squeezed his sister’s hand before he got to his feet, put on the wretched gaudy shoes that matched his unfortunate attire, and commanded the two male courtiers to help him move the trunk. They soon fell back and he was left alone to unbar and open the door. 

The sight of Giù— Yusuf— at first filled Nicolò with a knee-weakening sense of relief and bubbling joy. Until he noted the stern expression of near-disgust on his lover’s face as he looked Nicolò up and down. Being unrecognizable was both reassuring and agony. He had never wanted Giù to know who he was, and this would be the worst situation to reveal himself. 

Yusuf entered the cabin and re-introduced himself. He was followed by another man, both of them frightening and masculine, and the air in the room seemed syrupy with their sense of ominous authority. 

Nicolò stood in a corner and fought to breathe. Giù- Yusuf- was magnificent, fully dressed in a mismatch of items of various age and wear. He had a sword: a weighty, utilitarian, dangerous thing that shared hardly any similarities to the thin, whippy rapiers Nicolò had learned how to use. Kohl darkened his eyes and kept them shaded even as he doffed his hat and approached Anna. He seemed to have chosen her as the least witless thing in the cabin and spoke with her in a serious voice that held a measure of respect. 

Upon establishing that they both spoke the Ligurian dialect well, Annetta told him that she was escorting her brother to France for a marriage. Yusuf barely spared him another dismissive glance, and Nicolò found it perversely arousing and trembled with the strength of that wave of want, his blood thrumming in his ears and drowning out the rest of the conversation. 

Ultimately, the cabin was upturned for valuables while Anna and Nicolò sat on the edge of the bed and the French contingent quailed in a knot of quivering ruffles and wringing handkerchiefs. Nicolò’s heart ached as he watched Yusuf sneer at the finery from the clothes trunk and leave it in a rumpled pile. He felt like Yusuf was disgusted by more than the gaudy things; Nico himself had been made cheap and flimsy and unrecognizable to Yusuf, whom he had thought had known him so well. Even more than Anna, Nicolò considered that Yusuf had seen more of his truest self in all those shared moments over the years, and none of those qualities had been important enough to shine through this ridiculous layer of makeup and frippery to earn even a glimpse of recognition from Yusuf. 

Once the pirates had left the cabin he asked Anna, “What was your impression of that captain?” 

She gave him a curious look. “Dangerous. Polite enough to me, I suppose, the best he could manage without proper training. I was surprised that he engaged with me quite seriously and didn’t treat me like a mindless girl.” 

Nico let out a small huff of breath at that, and waves a hand to indicate his face. “Sensible of him, with me looking so vapid and—“ He held his tongue, aware of their escorts. Hopefully, “vapid” wasn’t a term they were familiar with in Ligurian. 

Annetta patted his knee. “ _Fashion,_ ” she said, in a long-suffering tone. A shrill whistle sounded from the deck outside and some shouting in a foreign tongue. “I hope they are leaving,” she said before shuddering. “He said that there are enough crew left alive to get us to France, but I am afraid to take a look.” 

An urgent restlessness rose up into Nicolò’s throat and took him to his feet and moved him to the door. “I need to see,” he said. And he did, he had to see what his gentle and playful lover did when he was out in the world. 

There were splashes of blood on the deck, and corpses of both Ligurian and French navy. The only ones standing were the tanned men of Yusuf’s crew with sacks of food and barrels of gunpowder they were moving onto the other ship, a much smaller vessel with a black flag. 

Most of them turned to stare at Nicolò, and one-eared man sneered at him and said in French, “A lily. Can’t tell whether it’s supposed to be a man or a woman.” 

“I am not French,” Nicolò found himself saying rather angrily. “I am being sold to them.” 

The man shrugged. “I don’t care. Go back inside and out of the way.” 

“I would like to buy passage on your ship.” His declaration earned him some surprised looks before a large man shouldered through the small crowd. 

“I am Mehmed, the quartermaster. Why would we take a passenger?” His crossed arms and stern face didn’t convey anything except annoyance. 

Nico steeled his spine. “I can pay you. I don’t care what port you drop me off in.” 

“Pay me with what? The captain searched your cabin himself; I doubt he left anything of value behind.” 

“He didn’t do a very good job,” Nico said. The adrenaline and reckless audacity he felt made him cock his head and grin challengingly as he insulted the pirate’s captain. 

Mehmed put a hand on his sword to draw it, but a voice cut across the scene and brought all movement to a standstill. Yusuf hung from the rigging of his ship, having climbed up to get a view of what was going on on the higher deck of the French galleon. Nico couldn’t understand what he told his men, but he was able to easily hear the good humor in his voice. His crew began shifting and chuckling, and the one-eared man spat and said, “You have done it now, kid.” 

The quartermaster turned back to Nico and looked him up and down. “Captain says to give you a weapon. We don’t steal from those who can’t defend themselves, and we don’t let any aboard who can’t fight. Whatever coin or trinkets you have on you will be ours by dint of barter or taken from your cooling corpse.” 

Nico’s body already felt grave-cold. This was a bad idea: he couldn’t hold his own against a man of Mehmed’s size with an unfamiliar and likely too-heavy weapon. He could simply tell Yusuf who he was, but how would that look? Nico would be little more than a whore in their eyes, and if Yusuf let him onto his ship his reputation among his crew might sour. He could back off and retreat back to the cabin and his unwanted marriage, or fight for the slim possibility of joining Yusuf. 

“Do any of you have a rapier?” He asked steadily in French and then Ligurian. One man came forward and offered him a sheathed weapon. Nico took the hilt and weighed the blade in his hand. He found it comfortable and raised his eyes again. “Who am I to fight?” 

“I will take you on, little mouse,” Mehmed said. He drew his own curved blade. 

“Give the poor boy a chance,” the pirate who had given Nico the rapier said, clicking his tongue in fake chastisement. Everyone laughed except for Nico and Annetta, who was peering from the doorway looking terrified. 

“Nicolò!” She hissed. “What do you think you are doing?” 

“Either living or dying,” Nico shot back. “Finally making a choice for myself instead of doing what our father wants me to do.” 

“Well for God’s sake!” Ann exclaimed, despairing of her younger brother’s stupidity, “At least take your dagger!” She left the safety of the hatchway and pressed Nicolò’s dagger into his hand. He had laid it aside, forgotten with his regular clothes while getting made up into this farcical popinjay. 

Nico pulled the cover from his dagger with his teeth and let it drop to the planks of the deck. He also kicked off the uncomfortable shoes and shook out his limbs before he was ready to turn to the mountain that was Mehmed. As he turned he was disappointed to see that Yusuf had dropped from the ropes and was apparently uninterested in watching Nico’s challenge. Well, Nicolò may have been trained in the courtly martial arts but his sword master had also called him a natural and had taught him some skills that noblemen normally did not learn. He wasn’t confident that he could hold his own against a seasoned pirate out to murder him, but at least he could give their audience a few surprises. It was unfortunate that Yusuf wasn’t going to witness this; Nico would have liked getting at least one look of approval from him as Nicolò di Genova instead of Nico of the docks. 

There was a scraping on the hull and then Yusuf was climbing over the railing. “This mouse may have teeth, Mehmed,” the captain said casually. “I will fight him myself. I dismissed him as harmless earlier, turned my back, and apparently overlooked some things of value. It is only fair that I remedy my errors.” 

Yusuf shucked his coat and hat and dropped them in one of his men’s arms. He approached Nico and tipped his head condescendingly. “We fight until one of us yields or is dead. Agreed, Nicolò di Genova?” 

Nico considered correcting him, saying “You can call me Nico,” or “Agreed, Giù,” but he wants to earn Yusuf’s respect in this manner without any cheating. If Yusuf was too thick to see through this facade of powder and ribbon, then Nico would do his best to teach him a lesson about looking harder. “Agreed.” 

Yusuf’s sword was indeed a wicked tool of his trade. Nico silently thanked Anna as well as his sword master for arming him with his knife: the rapier was a quick slashing weapon, but the dagger would be able to block and withstand the force of the heavier sword. “Let’s begin.” 

Yusuf took it easy for the first handful of minutes, testing Nico’s skills and finding them slow and clumsy. Nico played the fumbling fool patiently and waited for his opponent to make a real attempt. When the quick attack came, Nico’s block and counterattack happened simultaneously and with a speed that Yusuf was not expecting him to be capable of. He stepped back looking with surprise at the bleeding slash on his left arm before returning his gaze to Nico’s face, a more calculating look in his dark eyes. 

Perspiring with nerves and effort, Nico took advantage of the respite to pull off the ornate wig. He didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that Yusuf still seemed to not recognize him. 

The pirate attacked with more intent and strength, and Nico barely held his sword off and was kicked in a knee for his narrowed focus. When his own advances were blocked, the murmurs of the watching crowd gave Nico some encouragement. He could win this: he just needed to get Yusuf into a prone position, maybe get his knife to his neck, then hold him there until the captain said that Nico had won. After that, on Yusuf’s ship, with his face washed and in normal clothes, he would get to see his lover’s face morph from this stony coldness to disbelief to joy. It would be like Nico and Giù had idly talked about in the early hours of the morning, cuddled together under the blankets of a rented bed: living together, free to love each other openly and go anywhere in the world that they pleased. 

Nicolò’s brief fantasy was enough of a distraction for Yusuf to gain the upper hand. With a series of lightning-quick moves the pirate had Nico disarmed and stumbling to his knees, Yusuf’s blade threatening his throat and the pirate crew’s cheers in Nicolò’s ears. The ebullient sounds of pride from the men baying for his death did not hide the sounds of his sister weeping. 

He was not going to be a coward, even if he faced death at the edge of his beloved’s sword. Nico still had one trick to play. 

“I admit I am impressed,” Yusuf said. “You drew first blood. I didn’t expect you to be that good.” 

Nico shrugged. “I am not a French noble. They may have dressed me like this, but I am a Genovan.” He couldn’t suppress a quirk of his lips. “At least let me die as a Genovan, with this stupid face paint gone.” 

Yusuf looked amused. “Fine. I do admire a man willing to face death truly as himself, without masks.” 

With permission given, Annetta approached her kneeling brother with a washbasin and cloth. Nicolò felt sadness and guilt upon seeing the tear-tracks on her face. “You stubborn boy!” She was kind enough to keep her scolding at a low volume while Yusuf’s men resumed their loading of stolen goods. 

“I am not going to die today, Anna,” Nico said quietly. “I have faith that my beloved will save me.” 

“Beloved?” She hissed, looking even more concerned for his sanity. “What beloved? Your intended spouse is in France!” 

Nico kept his face bowed and hidden from Yusuf’s view as he wiped off the silly powders and creams. “My secret lover from the docks. I’m sure you had your suspicions. I saw him on this very ship. Fate does not intend for my life to end today.” He let the cloth slip into the water one last time and used the ornate sleeve of the ridiculous coat to wipe off the drips from his chin. As Annetta reluctantly stepped back, Nicolò dropped his hands to his lap defenselessly and sat back on his heels again. “Thank you,” he said to Yusuf, even as the man moved forward again to set the point of his sword at Nicolò’s neck. 

“I can let my opponents die with dignity,” Yusuf said, humor coloring his voice. “So let me see the real face of the boy brave enough to challenge pirates to duels.” 

Nico felt that chilling uncertainty again. Maybe it had been a mistake to fight back. Maybe he had miscalculated, was about to pay for his hubris. Yusuf, his Giù, would be disgusted to see the Nico he knew as the noble-born Nicolò di Genova. Surely his lover had known there was a reason for the secrecy of their meetings, but despite whatever sweet words had been whispered in candlelight, while they cuddled up naked and love-drunk, about Giù and Nico leaving the city to be free to love each other... Nicolò shouldn’t be surprised if those fantasies turned to ash in the light of day. Maybe as he was exposed under the Mediterranean sun, all the lies would also be laid bare. 

His fear and regrets made his head heavy and Nico was reluctant to actually lift his face. Only the nudging threat of Yusuf’s sword at his chin made him tip it up. 

Yusuf’s expression was more than Nico had predicted: his eyes and mouth opened wide in utter shock. His hand wielding the sword dropped, the weapon’s tip digging into the wood of the deck. “Oh,” he breathed. 

The movement of someone behind Yusuf pulled Nico’s eye away. “Captain?” Mehmed questioned. 

This prompted Yusuf to regain his faculties. Nico was relieved when the first thing he did was sheathe his sword. “We will take this man on as a passenger as he requested,” Yusuf said brusquely. “Payment as agreed. My lord,” he said to Nico, “You may take a moment to gather your belongings and say your goodbyes.” 

Nico got to his feet and bowed. “Thank you, Captain.” 

“Were you _liasing_ with a _pirate captain?”_ Anna said, scandalized, once they were both back in the cabin. 

Nico grinned to himself as he started removing the gaudy clothes of the French court and shrugged casually. “I thought he was a merchant sailor. He said his name was Giù. ...I like the name Yusuf so much better.” 

The French contingent of imbeciles chattered away amongst themselves at this news. Nico didn’t bother paying any attention, quite happy to get into his normal outfit. It was still finer clothing than he used to wear when meeting Yusuf, but this was the beginning of a new chapter for them. He fervently hoped that Nicolò and Yusuf could fall in love as thoroughly as Nico and Giù had, and with fewer complications. Though he supposed he was leaving that life behind and embarking on one of being a disowned scion of royalty who had destroyed an important diplomatic alliance by jilting his intended to join a crew of pirates hoping to elope with their captain... so maybe “uncomplicated” was not an apt word. 

Nico gave his sister one last embrace and an apology before he burst from the cabin for the last time to lay anxious eyes on his beloved. Yusuf held Nico’s sheathed knife and gave him a wide, elated smile that made his heart feel like it would fly from his chest. Nico wanted to run into his arms but discretion won out for Yusuf’s sake, and he calmly walked to take back his dagger. “Would you tell me your name again, please?” 

Yusuf was so very handsome! The kohl made his soft eyes look almost honey-colored and striking, and the sunlight turned his hair and beard into a burnished halo. “Yusuf Al-Kaysani. Captain of the _Dolphin_. Outlaw wanted for piracy in at least seven countries. Pleasure to make your acquaintance Nicolò di-“ 

“Just Nico,” Nico interrupted with a rueful smile. “I’m afraid my choices of late have severed all ties with my family. They would not appreciate me clinging to their name. As for my occupation, I suppose that remains to be seen.” 

“Hmm,” Yusuf said, his eyes twinkling. “I am afraid that some of my crew is aware that their captain has been quite infatuated with a Nico who may have similar characteristics to yourself. They may, in fact, be disappointed that all their plans of uncovering your identity so they may kidnap you to make their captain stop being so pathetically lovelorn are all for naught.” 

“Were they really?” Nico supposed that there was something deeply wrong about him that he found that more flattering than fearful. 

“I suppose I will have to show them the error of their ways,” Yusuf said which puzzled Nico. 

“What error?” 

“That their captain would not choose a lover who needed to be coerced into bed. That he would choose a lover brave and devoted enough to choose _him_ when the option was clear.” 

Understanding washed over Nico in a feeling quite close to awe. It made so many more questions bubble up, but Yusuf’s finger stopped any from emerging from his lips. Yusuf’s smirk was almost disgustingly smug. “Back to the _Dolphin_.” 

Nico felt like a pitcher: full of emotions and afraid that tipping over would make everything spill out of him. He didn’t want to lose a drop of the adoration, admiration, or even the pang of impugned pride. Yusuf’s men assisted and welcomed him with smiles and claps on the back as he shakily made the crossing to the other ship. When he was on the _Dolphin’s_ deck he watched Yusuf make orders that set the crew into choreographed action as they reeled in grapples and wadded up netting and unfurled the sails. After they had gained some distance from the larger French vessel Mehmed was the first to approach Nico, his face and demeanor about as opposite from the menace he had exuded before the fight as the same features could express. He was positively chummy as he grinned beneath his bushy mustache, two gold teeth peeping out. 

“As to the matter of payment for your passage...” he started. 

“I wasn’t lying,” Nico said. He grasped the rings he was keeping in his pocket. “I thought I might give them directly to-“ 

Mehmed laughed and nodded his head. “Make payment directly to the captain, little mouse.” He put a heavy hand on Nico’s shoulder. It was friendly, not threatening. “I would have gone harder on you than the captain,” he said. “I am a better actor.” 

Nico chuffed. “He was pretty convincing to me.” 

Mehmed shrugged his enormous shoulders. “You had to earn respect from crew. Your skill is decent, not good. I will make you better.” 

Nico supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised that his fighting prowess wasn’t as great as his trainers and peers had made him believe. It did nag at his pride. But there was nothing for it but to humbly accept the criticism and the offer. “Thank you. I suppose I have a lot to learn to keep up with you all.” 

Mehmed laughed again. “Smart mouse,” he said, patting Nico’s shoulder. 

Yusuf sidled up to them. “Keep your hands off him,” he mock-chided. “And didn’t I tell you he would make the right choice?” 

Mehmed took his hand away and rolled his eyes. “This man has sense. Life of a pirate is longer than life in French politics. Unfortunately you have to deal with each other. Keep it in captain’s quarters, please.” He turned and walked away. 

Nico’s life felt like it had been swept up in a whirlwind. Holding Yusuf’s hand was a familiar and grounding sensation. 

“The quartermaster does not give the captain orders,” Yusuf said, a bit petulantly. Nico was about to ask, but he was swept up in an embrace and kiss that bent him backwards. It wiped everything from his mind until his beloved pulled away and set Nico on his feet again. 

He gasped for breath and blushed as he heard cheers and taunts from the crew, but Yusuf’s hot and almost possessive gaze focused his attention. 

Despite Yusuf’s confident expression, his fidgeting hands still caught Nico’s eye, and Nico reached out to still the nervous movement. “Can we have some privacy? I do believe there is the matter of payment....”

**Author's Note:**

> All French-bashing in this text should only be taken in context as scorn for the French monarchy and their fashions in general as chronologically contemporary with the setting of the story. The author’s negative views of pre-Revolutionary French politics and culture are not relevant to, nor should be applied to, the modern country of France, its culture, nor its people.
> 
> iow: An arranged royal marriage and wigs and face powder were just a convenient plot device to manufacture somewhat-plausible identity porn. And fainting fops are just _objectively_ funny.


End file.
